


it's a different kind of danger

by Pomfry



Series: Jondami Week 2018 [3]
Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Damian is the heir to a fortune, Jon is an aspiring writer, Kathy is long-suffering, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 02:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: "This is the first time since I thinkcollegethat I’ve had a date.”“Very true,” Kathy agrees. “And even longer since you got laid.”“Kathy!”





	it's a different kind of danger

**Author's Note:**

> All I'm writing this week is fluff....
> 
> We'll come back to our regularly scheduled programming later.

Jon bites his lip as he looks at himself into the mirror, squinting at the flannel shirt he’d buttoned up and the worn sneakers.

He had a date. For once. He actually had a _date!_

A grin nearly splits his face as he snatches up his keys and runs out the door, absently shutting off the TV as he hurries past. He fails to see that the subject is the person’s he’s going to meet.

“Keys, wallet, bracelet,” Jon mutters as he pats his pockets and walks to his car. The sun’s shining, there’s a light breeze brushing his hair away from his face, and he has a date with an incredibly handsome man who picked up his folders he’d dropped and bought him coffee yesterday.

Jon stops mid step. Dear god he’s actually doing this. It’s been - well, it’s been forever since he went on a date, so focused on his career as a writer. He can’t even remember the last time he’s had sex, and that’s truly disappointing. He’s twenty-three, he should know this.

Damian is practically _sex on legs._

Dear god.

Jon fumbles with his keys and slips into the car, trying desperately not to squirm. Damian is that, yes, but he’s also nice and bitingly sarcastic and has a soft spot for animals

Jon’s always been of the opinion that it’s the person who counts, not the way they look. What good does it do him if the person is a complete ass? Nothing, that’s what.

He’s the kind of person who doesn’t _do_ one night stands. He wants to take care of the person after, get to know them. Fantastic sex or not, that doesn’t matter much if they’re rude. He just might punch them.

He sighs and starts the car, the engine rumbling and coughing as he starts to drive. It’s an old car, and the previous owner didn’t really take as good care of it as they should; he doesn’t have the money to get it repaired all the time, so ready-to-break-down-all-the-time car it is.

The date is at one at a small cafe on the corner of fifth and sixth, and since it’s - he checks his watch - twelve-thirty, he has half an hour until he needs to be there. Okay, cool.

Why is he so jittery? It’s only a date. A date with a man with green eyes and a smirk and tan skin and -

Jon shakes his head, slapping his cheeks as he reaches a stop light. Stop it. Stop getting nervous before you even _get_ there.

It’s fifteen minutes after he last checked his watch, and he pulls into the street, parking and staring at his hands on the steering wheel.

Okay. Okay. It’s just a date - the first date he’s been on in forever, granted - and he doesn’t even know if this will turn out okay. He doesn’t even know if the place is decent - unlikely, considering just how much Damian critiqued the place where he took him for coffee - and he _definitely_ doesn’t know if Damian will - will like him beyond thirty minutes.

Dammit. He’s gotten himself worked up again. He glances at the cafe, pulling out his phone and calling Kathy.

“The Silver Kettle, how may I help you,” comes the prompt answer, and Jon grins helplessly, sinking back into his seat. Kathy tends to make everything better.

“Hi, Kathy,” he says, and she falls silent for a moment.

“Why are you calling me,” she asks bluntly, “when you have a date in five minutes.”

Jon laughs sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m….nervous?”

 _“Nervous?”_ Kathy scoffs at him. “You were raving about this guy to me yesterday, sighing and it was _Damian_ this and _Damian_ that.”

“Hey, I’m allowed to have doubts,” Jon whines, staring broodily at his gas gauge. “And this is the first time since I think _college_ that I’ve had a date.”

“Very true,” Kathy agrees. “And even longer since you got laid.”

_“Kathy!”_

“I’m your best friend, Jon,” she says, unaffected by his yowl. “And when you walk into work with a limp that says you got fucked and well, I’m gonna notice.”

“That doesn’t mean you say it,” he hisses, face burning. She laughs at him, the _witch._

“You’re gonna be fine,” she says. “If they don’t like you then they’re fucking morons and should go die in a hole.”

“Kathy,” he says again.

“That’s my name, yes. Please don’t wear it out, I rather like it and I would not like to change it.”

He growls under his breath. “Kathy, he’s just. _Perfect.”_

“What’s his whole name again,” she asks, suddenly focused. A focused Kathy is a scary Kathy, so he hurries to answer.

“Damian Wayne.” The last name makes something ping in the back of his head, but he grew up around world famous journalists. _Everything_ is passingly familiar, at this point.

“Oh.” Silence. He can _feel her grin,_ her _evil grin._ “Well then. Good luck! It’s officially one in the afternoon!”

“Fuck!” Jon opens the door and nearly falls out in his haste to get to the cafe. “I hate you, _so much._ I hope you know this.”

“Love you too.”

“Go die and become something pleasant.” Jon hangs up and waves at Damian sitting at a table by the window.

Dear god have mercy above, he’s _gorgeous._ Who let this man walk outside.

“Hi,” Jon says as he walks inside and takes a seat across from his date. Damian smiles at him, and it’s beautiful.

Fuck. He’s in deep. Is there such thing as too deep?

Nah.

“Hello,” Damian says. Jon grins.

“How’s your pets?”

Damian’s face lights up and he takes out his phone, showing picture after picture, and Jon feels so irrationally fond of this man.

Damian’s adorable. And, really, it’s not that big of a surprise when the cafe date turns into a movie date, then dinner. They just sorta - click. It’s _incredible._

 

\--

 

Jon blearily shuffles downstairs to get his mail, coffee cup in hand and feeling like a zombie, and he’s assaulted by light. He throws his hands up, hissing like a cat, and squints at five, no, ten, no, twenty -

At that point, Jon stops counting and glares sleepily at the people making so much noise at nine in the morning on a _Saturday._

“What the fuck,” he mumbles, and at least six microphones are shoved in his face.

“Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent, how do you feel about Mr. Wayne’s decision to fund all the animal shelters across the city?”

“What?”

“Mr. Kent! How was your date with Mr. Wayne? How do you feel about him?”

Another recorder is shoved in his personal space.

“What,” he shouts. They only crowd in closer, like _vultures._

Jon blinks, then turns tail and runs upstairs.

Fuck this, it’s too early.

 

\--

 

When he slams the door behind him, his phone is buzzing angrily on his couch. Jon trots over to it and answers, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. “Yeah?”

“Have you been swarmed by reporters yet?”

Jon’s eyes shoot open. “Kathy? You _knew_ this would happen?”

“Duh. You went on a five hour date with _Damian Wayne._ I figured you knew.

“Who the hell is Damian Wayne,” Jon yells to the ceiling, and Kathy goes quiet.

“You really don’t know?” When Jon doesn’t deign that worthy of a reply, she sighs, like _she’s_ the one being burdened by his ignorance. “Look him up.”

Jon pulls away his phone from his ear and types in Damian Wayne on Chrome. What comes up is -

“He’s a _billionaire,”_ he yelps.

“Yeah. Jon, you grew up with _Lois Lane_ and _Clark Kent_ as your parents. How the fuck do you not know this.”

“Everything is commonplace when you have those two raising you,” Jon protests, feeling like he’s back in college with his professor bearing down at him.

“Jon,” Kathy says, like he’s an idiot. “You went on a date with the heir to a billionaire fortune and the future CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

“Oh my god,” he breathes, rocking back on his heels.

“Yep.”

“I have to call Damian.”

“You probably should.”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Please do.”

Dear fucking _god._ How is this his life.

Then again, he thinks as his phone dials, with Lois Lane as his mom, this is to be expected. She still torments Lex Luthor.

“Jon,” Damian says as soon as he picks up, his voice warm, “how are you -”

“Damian,” Jon interrupts, “my apartment is surrounded by reporters. Please tell me how they found my address.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Jon rubs at his forehead. “Damian, I swear I didn’t know you were - who you are.”

“Is me being _me_ a problem,” Damian asks, sounding apprehensive, and Jon snorts.

“God no. I like you for you, you animal loving dork. Just wanted to know how they found out where I live.”

“Okay.” Damian breathes out a sigh of relief. “And I don’t know. The media has a way of finding out these things.”

“Don’t I know it.

“Want to come and play with Alfred and Titus?”

 _“Yes._ Give me ten minutes and I’ll slip out the back.”

“See you in twenty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and brighten up my day and are saved in my Gmail.
> 
> Also! Here's my [Tumblr.](http://nikescaret.tumblr.com) Come visit and chat with me if you want!


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